La Pute
by IWannaLiveInABigBlueBox
Summary: When Kurt is captured by a slave ring he expects all the darkness and pain that follows. What he doesn't expect is his roommate, sweet and caring and smiling from the minute Kurt wakes up. When you're trapped in a literal hell, it's hard not to trust the only glimpse of light, but how can Kurt know if he's deserving of that trust.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: When Kurt is captured by a slave ring he expects all the darkness and pain that follows. What he doesn't expect is his roommate, sweet and caring and smiling from the minute Kurt wakes up. When you're trapped in a literal hell, it's hard not to trust the only glimpse of light, but how can Kurt know if he's deserving of that trust.**  
**Warnings (for this part only): Noncon/dubcon (running theme through the whole fic, some of it will be between Klaine eventually, but it's noncon or dubcon for both of them), bondage, drugging, starvation, watersports (not in a sexy way and not explicitly described, message me if you want a better explanation before reading), slavery, and I think that's it for this part.**  
**A/N: My plan will be to update Beautiful, Brave, Broken every Saturday and this every Monday, let's hope I can stick to that plan. **  
**A/N 2: Also HUGE HUGE thanks to itallstartedwithharry who had been there for me to bounce ideas off of for this fic for months, and helped me look over everything and just make my writing better. You're the best!**  
**Word Count: ~2,100**

His face was the first thing Kurt saw when he woke up. Sitting on the floor next to his cot, the boy had a gentle and cautious smile on his face. Kurt tried to jerk away but his arms were trapped in place by straps binding him to the bed. The last thing he could remember was feeling hot and dizzy, trying to get to the Scandals bathroom and then… nothing. He twisted in the restraints, desperate to get out.

"If you don't fight they'll take those off of you sooner," the boy said quietly, with a sympathetic twitch of his lips as Kurt yanked on them again.

"How did I get here?" he choked out. The boy was silent, elbows resting on knees. "Where are we?" he asked instead.

"It doesn't really have a name that I know of," he finally whispered back.

"Why am I here?" he had an idea and he hoped he was wrong.

The boy shook his head and stood, moving to the other side of the room. It was small and claustrophobic, two small cots on opposite walls with just enough space for a single person to walk between them. The feet of the beds rested against a wall with a door. If Kurt craned his neck enough he could see the wall behind them, two cabinets rested on a counter on his side, and there was a metal toilet behind the bed on the other side. It was a prison cell... it was worse than a prison cell.

The boy retrieved a pair of nondescript grey sweats and a dark hoodie from one of the cabinets. He set them on the other bed and started stripping out of his tightly fitted tank and ass hugging shorts, without a thought to Kurt watching him closely. Kurt quickly averted his eyes, and didn't look back until he heard the boy lie down on his own cot.

He was curled in a tight ball, a thin blanket wrapped tightly around him. It was silent for a few minutes, the boy breathing deep enough to hint at sleep, but it was too measured and controlled. He was just pretending.

"Why am I here?" Kurt tried again and watched as the boy sagged in defeat at the fact that Kurt wouldn't just drop the question, but Kurt just couldn't; he needed to know. The wondering was worse.

His voice was resigned when he finally answered him, "You're pretty, young, feisty, I know a few of the guys that will pay heavily to get a chance with you first." Just enough to tell Kurt the nature of his captivity without actually saying it.

Kurt's heart sped up, because he'd known; the boy was young and pretty as well, wearing too little clothing, and was too comfortable stripping in front of Kurt. And honestly, what other kind of crime ring would drug young boys at one of the few gay bars around.

"What will they do to me?" Kurt tried to keep his voice strong but it shook terribly.

And when the boy never responded, Kurt didn't have the courage to ask again.

* * *

Kurt twisted fitfully in the bed throughout the night, squeezing his legs together as tight as he could against the insistent throbbing of his bladder. He wanted to call out to the other boy, see if he could let him out of the bed, or get someone that could so he could go to the bathroom, but he didn't even know his name. Instead Kurt laid there, concentrating desperately on not wetting the bed until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

When he woke again it was to the feeling of someone wiping down his now bare legs. He jerked and tried to pull away but the restraints kept him in place and the hand on his thighs kept his legs firmly spread.

"No, please," he pleaded quietly.

"Shh, shh," a soft voice hushed him and the curly-haired boy's face came into view, blurred from the tears in Kurt's eyes, "I'm just cleaning you up," he said gently, eyes searching Kurt's face for a reaction to his words.

Kurt's brow furrowed until he became aware of the slowly cooling wetness underneath him. He paled, letting out a soft whimper of mortification.

"It's okay," the boy said quietly, "everyone does it when they first get here…" he trailed off sadly. "I had to rip your pants to get them off," he said apologetically, " but I figured no pants was better than wet pants. I'll give you my blanket to cover up, but first i need to change the sheets, okay?"

Kurt nodded, closing his eyes and trying to think of anything but the smell of urine in the air. The boy tugged the sheets out from under him gently and tossed them to the side before grabbing a new set from the cupboard.

"Can you sit up for a little bit?" He asked gently, putting his hand against Kurt's back to help him up when he started to move. He got the sheets on the top half of the bed, "Now lay down and hips up." Kurt complied, raising his hips slowly. The boy pulled the sheet under him and fixed it at the foot of the bed. Then, as promised, he retrieved the blanket from his own bed and draped it over Kurt, tucking it in around his legs for more protection.

The mattress was still slightly damp beneath Kurt, but it was considerably better with the fresh sheets. The boy dumped the towel and sheet in a pile by the toilet and then went back to his own bed. He sat with his back against the wall, watching Kurt carefully.

"What's your name?" Kurt asked quietly.

He smiled softly, "Blaine. You?"

"Kurt," he whispered, licking his lips. "Why-uh… _when_ will they let me out?"

Blaine's smile fell. "When you've broken."

Kurt turned his head to look at him, "Broken? Wha-what does that mean?"

Blaine thought for a minute as if contemplating if he should water it down for Kurt or not. He took a deep breath and decided. "When you're weak, and tired, too hungry and thirsty to fight back. That's when they'll start your training. And if you start to regain your strength and try to fight them, they'll just lock you up again and start the whole process all over, only then you'll be alone, or with some other rebellious soul, and no one will be there to clean you up. The first breaking is easy, it's gentle compared to what they'll do to you if you don't just give in." Blaine's eyes were distant as he spoke, staring at the wall behind Kurt. It sounded rehearsed, like he'd practiced it a thousand times, voice steady and flat and devoid of hope.

Kurt's eyes narrowed, "So you're telling me I should just give in? I shouldn't even try? I should just let them do god knows what to me and not even try to escape?"

Blaine shook his head solemnly, "There is no escape, Kurt."

_He was one of them_. Kurt's mind reeled at the thought; Blaine was one of them, pretending to be a prisoner to get him to trust him and believe there was no hope so he'd break easier.

"Fuck you," Kurt hissed, and closed his eyes, turning himself away from Blaine as much as he could.

* * *

Blaine didn't try to speak to him again and they sat in silence until the guards came to gather him for his "duties". Kurt spent his time mentally scrubbing the grimy ceiling tiles, trying to imagine what colour they were under all the smears and dust. He imagined grey or white, nothing colourful; they had to have been dull to help break the first kids that had been imprisoned in this room. Or maybe they'd already been covered in a thick layer of dirt by the time his captors bought this hell hole. If they bought it.

When he got sick of that he counted every crack in the tiles, getting up to 68 before his neck hurt too much from craning it back to look at the tiles behind him and he had to stop counting. He jerked on the straps holding his wrists to the bed, going for a gentler approach than before and trying to wiggle his hand out rather than tear the straps. It did nothing except make his hands start cramping up from being contorted to attempt to fit through a place much too small for them.

He looked up when the door opened again and Blaine stepped in. Blaine gave him a small smile, but Kurt just glared back before turning away again. Blaine perched on the edge of his own bed, brow furrowed in concentration for a few minutes. He seemed to come to a decision, or whatever he was waiting for happened and he stood up, crossing the short space between their beds and sat quietly on the edge of Kurt's.

Kurt jerked away from him, glaring suspiciously. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"Guard change," Blaine said simply, before producing a bottle of water from his hoodie. He unscrewed the cap and started to tip it over his mouth. Kurt jerked his head to the side, pressing his lips tightly together. "Kurt," Blaine said, slightly exasperated, "it's just water. You have to be thirsty and if you don't drink now you're not going to get another opportunity until tomorrow night, because I'll be gone during the midday guard change, so open up."

"How do I know it's not drugged?" he spat, "This could be just another way to break me. Give me something that will make me happy to do whatever you ask, or a hallucinogen that will terrify me into submission."

"Kurt… I could get in huge trouble for doing this and we only have a few more minutes until the other guard is back outside the door, please, just drink the water." Kurt's throat was dry, begging him to take a little water, but he stayed resolute.

Kurt heard the quiet footsteps coming back towards the door and Blaine gave him one last pleading look that Kurt ignored, giving a short shake of his head. Blaine sighed, put the water back in his pocket, and went back to his bed.

Neither of them went to sleep immediately. Blaine reached behind his small cabinet and pulled out a notebook and a stub of a pencil. He sat with his back to the door, hunched over his notebook, his face was drawn in concentration and Kurt's eyes narrowed in suspicion, trying to figure out what Blaine was writing down and why he was concealing it from him. Was it things he'd learned about Kurt, how stubborn he was, things that could help break him easier, ways to possibly worm past his barriers? Was it just for himself or would he spread it to the other men in charge?

Blaine seemed intent on ignoring him, or just too caught up in his writing to notice Kurt watching him from the other side of the room, tense and afraid of what he could be saying about him.

Blaine shut the notebook after what seemed like forever, letting out a shaky breath before carefully putting it back in its hiding spot. Kurt almost couldn't believe he'd let Kurt see where he put it until he remembered he was strapped to the bed and in no position to retrieve the secret book. Blaine glanced at him as he dug through his cabinet for a change of clothes and Kurt quickly looked away, pretending he hadn't been watching him intently for the past twenty minutes.

He heard Blaine shuffling around a bit as he changed and climbed into bed, and Kurt chanced a peek to see him curled in a tight ball on his bed. Kurt looked back to the ceiling, trying to keep his thoughts off the notebook and what Blaine was writing about him. Trying not to think of what he would have to do to get out of this bed or what would happen to him after. Trying not to think of how he was going to lose his virginity and all the possible disgusting people that could take it from him...and most of all trying to not think about the likelihood that he would never escape this place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: When Kurt is captured by a slave ring he expects all the darkness and pain that follows. What he doesn't expect is his roommate, sweet and caring and smiling from the minute Kurt wakes up. When you're trapped in a literal hell, it's hard not to trust the only glimpse of light, but how can Kurt know if he's deserving of that trust.**

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, spanking, breathplay, dirty talk, humiliation, and whipping, if I forgot anything, let me know.**

**Word Count: ~2,000**

Kurt lost track of the days soon after that. Blaine didn't attempt to give him water again. He still gave him that sad smile every time he came back to the room but didn't speak. Kurt started to weaken, his throat dry and burning with every breath, his stomach rumbling loudly almost all the time and feeling like it was trying to eat itself. He drifted in and out of consciousness, asleep more often than he was awake, the dehydration and starvation making it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.

Shortly after Blaine had left one day, the door was opened again and a large, burly man entered the room. His eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a frown. He wasted no time in unstrapping Kurt from his restraints and dragging him to his feet. Kurt slumped, legs not used to holding his weight and exhaustion, and hunger making his body feel heavier than normal. The man didn't comment, didn't fight him, just threw him over his shoulder and carried his from the room.

Kurt remembered that he was still naked from the waist down as the man walked swiftly through the halls and squirmed, trying to wiggle his shirt down around his lower half. The man smacked him sharply on the ass and Kurt let out a hoarse cry. There were other people in the halls, all of them wearing the same clothes Blaine always wore, a dark hoodie and grey sweats. Not a one of them looked to be over twenty, and some of them looked as young as twelve, if they were even that. They all stared at Kurt as they passed and Kurt buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning with humiliation.

The man opened a door and stepped in, dropping Kurt to the floor without preamble. Kurt cried out and was immediately grateful for the thin carpeting the room had, compared to the concrete floor in his cell. Something hit chest and he looked down at the water bottle.

"Drink," the man ordered.

Kurt paused for a minute, gathering his strength before looking him defiantly in the eyes. "No," he said, voice somehow both weak with exhaustion and lack of use but strong with determination.

The hard look in the mans eyes didn't change as he stalked forward and grabbed the bottle of water, untwisting the cap and grabbing Kurt's jaw, forcing his mouth open and pouring the liquid into his mouth. Kurt sputtered and gagged, throat working desperately to swallow the steady stream of water flowing into his mouth. The man emptied the bottle before tossing it aside and letting go of Kurt's jaw. He backhanded him across the cheek and Kurt dropped to the ground gasping and clutching the side of his face.

"Lesson number one, bitch, I don't ask twice. Do it, or I will make you do it, and it will hurt a whole hell of a lot worse for you."

The man walked away and Kurt took the few minutes to himself to push back the tears stinging his eyes and get his breathing under control, his stomach gurgled in frustration at the lack of food given it with the abundance of water.

He heard the man's footsteps returning and curled in on himself. Fingers slid into his hair and pulled him up onto his knees, head forced back so far that his spine bowed with the tension.

"Shirt off," the man said, and Kurt hesitated, the 'fuck you' trying to make it's way out of his throat. A sharp tug to his hair reminded him of his earlier warning and since he was already mostly naked, he didn't think keeping his shirt would be worth the pain fighting back would cause.

He unbuttoned his shirt as quickly as his weak, shaking fingers could and slipped it off his shoulders.

"Good bitch," the man said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he patted Kurt's cheek. Kurt flinched, gritting his teeth against his own biting remark. "Now, for the rules. We will train every day for a week, at the end of the week you will be tested and if you fail you will be sent back for another week, you will continue to be trained until you pass. It is in your best interest to pass sooner, the longer I have to look at that girly bitch face of yours the less gentle I am going to be with it, understood?"

Kurt didn't respond, eyes still narrowed at the man.

Kurt expected the slap, but it didn't stop him from jerking to the side only to be yanked back by the man's grip on his hair.

"When I ask you a question you will respond with 'Yes, _Sir_' or 'No, _Sir_'," he bit, jerking Kurt's head painfully each time he said 'Sir'.

"Yes, Sir," Kurt said through clenched teeth.

"Good, now-" Kurt's stomach growled loudly, interrupting Sir. He glared, foot coming up to press into Kurt's noisom abdomen. Kurt groaned, body trying to curl around his stomach in protection but being forced to bow further backward as Sir tugged harder on his hair. "Is the little bitch hungry?" he growled, kicking Kurt swiftly in the stomach once, twice, three times before releasing him and walking farther in the room. Kurt leaned over, clutching at his stomach that was throbbing both inside and out.

Sir dug through a few drawers for a minute before barking, "Come here, bitch."

Kurt shakingly pushed himself to his feet and walked haltingly over to him, having to stop every couple of seconds to steady himself. Sir waited impatiently and once Kurt was in front of him, he backhanded him again. Kurt stumbled backward dropping back to his knees , eyes clenched shut against the spinning of the room. "What the hell was that for?" Kurt asked, touching his cheek gingerly, "I did what you wanted!"

"Walking is a privilege," Sir said shortly, "one you haven't earned yet, you will crawl until I say otherwise."

Kurt ground his teeth but still manage to spit out a "Yes, Sir."

"Good, now, all slaves eat on the floor. Plates and utensils and use of your hands are also privileges that you have yet to earn. So," he dropped a handful of cheerios on the carpet in front of Kurt, "eat," he ordered.

Kurt hesitated, this carpet looked disgusting and he didn't even want to imagine all the things that had happened in this room and on this particular patch of rug.

"Just a warning, the cheerios won't be like the water. I will whip you once for every cheerio you leave on this floor. And, as your stomach won't stop growling until you've eaten something, I'll add on another lash every time it makes a noise. So it's really in your best interest to get eating now."

Kurt look up at him, jaw clenching and unclenching in annoyance at being treated like a dog. Sir raised an eyebrow, daring Kurt to test him and Kurt submitted, leaning down and gingerly picking up a cheerio between his teeth. The top of the pile wasn't bad and he moved quickly down until he reached the last layer. Picking up his first one he knew immediately he wasn't just getting cheerio, he reached to try and pull the carpet fuzz out of his mouth but his hand was quickly slapped away.

"Try that again and I'll tie your hands behind your back and I honestly don't think you're strong enough at the moment to hold yourself up without them."

Kurt glared up at him but swallowed it down, grimacing and coughing as the fuzz made it's way down his throat. He picked up the other cheerios carefully, trying his best but still getting at least a little fuzz each time. He sat back on his heels once they were all gone just for Sir to dump another handful in the floor. Kurt sighed, but bit his tongue. He'd thought he have at least earned a plate by now.

Every time Kurt would think he was done Sir would just drop more, until Kurt's stomach was feeling over full and his back and knees ached from being on the ground for this long. Finally Sir hesitated with the next handful in hand and Kurt was sure he was done, until he promptly threw them across the room and they scattered all over the place. Kurt's jaw dropped, hands clenching in frustration on his thighs. Sir looked at his bare wrist and said, "You have five minutes to find them all, go."

Kurt groaned in frustration but crawled quickly around the room grabbing each cheerio he found and ignoring the amount of carpet he was eating with each one. He'd gotten thirteen when Sir called out "Time's up!"

Kurt sat back, panting, "That… was not… five minutes," he gasped out.

"Sure it was," Sir said.

"You don't have a watch," Kurt argued, and his head whipped around the room, searching for some form of time keeping device, "and there isn't a clock in here, that wasn't five minutes, you cut it short! You didn't even give me a chance to succeed!"

Sir approached him angrily and gripped his chin tightly, "It's five minutes because I say it is. I threw thirty cheerios and you only picked up thirteen, which equals twenty-two lashings, I'm upping it to an even twenty-five because of your backtalk."

"But-" Kurt said and received a harsh slap to the face.

"Now it's thirty. You'll receive them at the end of the day in case I need to add more, now find the rest." He shoved Kurt backward and went back to the drawers.

Kurt angrily continued searching for the cheerios. He scaled the room up and down and only managed to find eight more. There couldn't have possibly been thirty, he hadn't left a single spot unsearched. Sir'd lied about the time, he'd lied about the number, and Kurt couldn't understand how he was expected to be good when nothing he did could possibly be good enough if Sir changed the standards to impossible heights and didn't even tell him.

He bit back the sob threatening to bubble out of his chest. He refused to cry in front of Sir, he knew he would almost inevitably break down in his and Blaine's room but at least Blaine had to pretend to be sympathetic. Sir would just laugh and probably add more lashings for being weak.

Kurt didn't know how he was going to survive this.

* * *

Kurt had never experienced anything more painful than the whipping. Each lash stung more than the last, his back and ass covered in criss crossing red welts, almost fifty of them if his count was correct. He'd earned forty by the end of the day and apparently Sir didn't feel like stopping.

Sir followed him back to the room as Kurt crawled, still naked, through the halls. He'd stop every now and then to try and cope with the pain. Sir would give a few seconds reprieve before smacking him with the riding crop he'd brought along to get him moving again. Kurt had never been more grateful to see Blaine, because it meant he'd made it back and he could sleep and not have to move for a while.

He crawled onto the bed, collapsing with his face in the pillow. Sir gave him one last smack with the riding crop, causing him to yelp, before locking him and Blaine in for the night. Blaine rushed to his side, touching his shoulder gently.

"Don't touch me," Kurt hissed, jerking away.

"Kurt, please," Blaine pleaded softly, "I need to take care your wounds."

"They're fine," Kurt bit out even as his back screamed and his ass burned.

"No, they're not, and if I don't put some lotion on them, you're barely going to able to move tomorrow and it will just earn you more lashings. Let me help you, okay?"

Kurt wanted to tell him that he knew, that Blaine could stop acting and just leave, because Kurt knew he was in charge. But another part of him craved the comfort, the human contact that didn't come with a threat of pain. Even if it was a lie. So he didn't and just whispered, "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: When Kurt is captured by a slave ring he expects all the darkness and pain that follows. What he doesn't expect is his roommate, sweet and caring and smiling from the minute Kurt wakes up. When you're trapped in a literal hell, it's hard not to trust the only glimpse of light, but how can Kurt know if he's deserving of that trust.**

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, slavery, foot worship, body worship, face slapping, talk of whipping.**

**A/N: Because I was late in posting the new chapter of Beautiful, Brave, Broken, I thought I'd give you a present of an early chapter of La Pute. It's also kind of short, so I will be posting another one tomorrow as well, but I hope you enjoy :)**

**Word Count: ~1,500**

"Lick it."

Kurt wasn't sure what he expected when he was told kneel in front of the chair in which Sir sat. Some more face slapping, hand job training, blow job training, not… licking his shoe.

Sir crossed his legs and nudged his foot under Kurt's chin, "I won't tell you again."

Kurt's lips curled in disgust, "Shouldn't you be teaching me how to please men, not how to make sure I come down with horrible disease from licking god knows what off your shoe."

Sir's eyes narrowed, "You will be surprised how many men enjoy watching their slaves lick their feet like dogs. You better get used to it now. All your getting from me for that remark is ten lashings, a client would be likely to do much worse as he's actually _paying_ for you to shine his shoes with that whore tongue."

Kurt glared at the foot in front of him, jaw clenching.

"Eleven… twelve… thirteen… fourteen."

Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion at the counting until he realized what it was. Lashes. Each second he hesitated he earned another stripe on his back. He reluctantly stuck out his tongue, touching it gingerly to the boot. He almost gagged on the taste but continued, covering the toe of the boot in tiny kitten licks.

"That will never do, little bitch," Sir said, "_bathe_ it with your tongue."

Kurt closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath before pressing his tongue flat against the rubber and licking a long stripe up it.

Kurt sat back in relief when he'd finished both shoes.

"Good bitch, now take them off and clean my toes."

* * *

"Keep your eyes on me," Sir ordered as he started to pull his shirt over his head. Kurt frowned at the rolls of fat and coarse, bristly hair adorning his chest and stomach. He went for his belt and Kurt cringed.

"Don't find me appealing, eh?" he said, watching the look of disgust on Kurt's face grow as he slipped out of his pants. He smacked Kurt once, "I don't really mind what a slave thinks of me, but your clients will. Learn to conceal your revulsion. True, a few of your guys may have a six pack with a perfect dick and nicely trimmed hedge, but most of them won't and they don't like feeling judged by someone they're paying to have sex with. Act like they're the hottest piece of ass you've ever seen, pretend like having sex with them is a joy. You'll start by worshiping my body."

Kurt used every acting bone in his body to pretend like this wasn't the most revolting thing he'd ever done, kissing and licking his way up Sir's body. Sir kept a tight grip on his hair, holding his face again his, luckily, still clothed crotch, and keeping him there until Kurt had thoroughly soaked his underwear before finally letting him move on up his body.

When he was finished Sir put his clothes back on and tossed Kurt a bottle of water. Kurt chugged it down, grateful for something to wash away the taste of Sir's skin.

"Go to the mess hall, give them this," he handed him a slip of paper, "you have twenty minutes to eat and get back here, every second late is another lash, something I doubt you want since you're already at fifteen today."

Kurt nodded and started to crawl from the room, "You may walk, bitch." Kurt only paused for a split second before scrambling to his feet and fleeing the room. He wrapped his arms around his bare chest, grateful that Blaine had given him a pair of sweats last night and Sir had miraculously not made him take them off... yet.

Kurt wandered for a few minutes before coming to the conclusion that he had no idea how to find the mess hall. He frowned, looking around for some sign that might point him in the right direction or someone that could show him the way. He walked cautiously, hoping he wasn't going into some restricted area. When he was just about to give up and backtrack to the training room someone called his name.

"Kurt?"

Kurt spun around, tensing for a second before realizing it was Blaine coming from the other end of the hall. Blaine's steps picked up until he was at a gentle jog.

"What are you doing in the halls by yourself?" he asked with a smile.

"Sir told me to go get something to eat," he said cautiously, "but he didn't tell me how to get to the cafeteria."

Blaine nodded, rolling his eyes and Kurt was almost shocked at the show of blatant disrespect, "Starvation technique," he muttered and Kurt's brow furrowed, "they tell you to go get food, but they don't tell you where the food is. They give you a time limit so you're scared of being gone too long and then when you can't find the food, you just give up and go back, to be punished for one, not following orders and eating, and two, being gone too long, because the time limit is bull, they say you have half and hour, you really have five minutes at max."

Kurt ground his teeth together, "Of course, why would they actually want you to succeed, they don't get to whip you that way," Kurt ran a hand through his hair, wincing at how oily it felt. He was almost grateful for the fact that there were no mirrors in this place to show him how terrible he looked.

"If they let you feel like success was possible you wouldn't be scared of them. Fear is how they keep you in line."

Kurt scoffed, "You're not scared of them, how do they keep you in line?"

Blaine's eyes did something funny for a second before he shook his head, "I'm heading to the mess hall right now if you want to come with and get something to eat before you go back." He gave Kurt a smile before jerking his head to the side and turning, leading the way. For the first time Blaine's smile had seemed forced.

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Kurt muttered, staring at his plate filled to the edges with mashed potatoes and gravy, "he can't seriously expect me to eat this with my hands."

"You don't have to eat it with you hands," Blaine said slowly, "you could always just shove your face in it."

Kurt glared at him then down at Blaine's hot dog fitting so nicely into his hands. "What if I just don't eat it?" he asked.

"They'll give you a note to take to your trainer and he'll decide how to punish you for it," Blaine shrugged.

"And if I rip it up and don't give it to him?"

"You'll be punished for both infractions tomorrow."

Kurt frowned. _Yeah, 'cause you'll tell them I did that, _he thought before taking a deep breath and digging his fingers into the potatoes.

* * *

"How many did you get tonight?" Blaine asked quietly, working the lotion into Kurt's shoulders.

"Lost count," Kurt whispered, voice thick as he fought back the tears of pain and frustration. "Did any of them break skin?"

"No," Blaine assured him, "some of them are close, but not quite there."

"Probably will tomorrow," Kurt mumbled, "I don't know how I'm going to finish the week at this rate, I can't do anything right with him."

Blaine frowned, "Tell me about your lessons," he requested softly.

Kurt tensed under him, pulling away from his hands to sit up. "Why? Didn't you go through them too?"

"Of course," Blaine assured, "many times, actually, it's just that training is different for everyone, it depends on your personality, and which trainer you get. My training changed so much from one try to the next, sometimes even with the same trainer things were different. Maybe if I know a little bit more about your training, I can give you tips that will make it easier to bare."

"What do you mean from one try to the next? You're like the perfect little slave, why would they have to retrain you?" Kurt asked.

Blaine rubbed his hands together, not meeting Kurt's eyes, "Becoming the perfect slave takes work, Kurt. I'm pretty sure you're coming to realized that by now."

Kurt folded his arms across his chest, glaring at the floor. "I don't want to become the perfect slave," he muttered.

"Kurt," Blaine said carefully, "I know you don't want to hear this, but take it from someone who knows. Everything around here is a lot less horrible if you just give in. Maybe you'll feel sick to your stomach, disgusted by yourself, but in here, if you want to survive, don't fight it, don't fight your training, don't fight your clients, don't fight yourself. If you let yourself give in, it's a lot less painful than when they'll finally break you, okay?"

Kurt's clenched his jaw, lips quivering, "Why are you so certain there's no way out of here?"

Blaine smiled sadly, "I've looked, and searched, for _years_, Kurt. And I'm still here."

Kurt raised his eyes, looking at him carefully, "What do you mean years? How long have you been here, Blaine?"

Blaine licked his lips, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "Goodnight, Kurt," he said, with a tone both shaking with nerves and firm with such finality that Kurt knew he wouldn't get Blaine to talk about it any time soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, slavery, bondage, nipple play, panic attacks, breathplay, drugging, handjobs, masturbation, humiliation.**

**A/N: As promised, a new chapter already. Two chapters in two days, I'm on a roll! Don't expect me to keep this up though, this was a fluke, I swear, I should be going back to one chapter a week after this. Though I might do a very small interlude from Blaine's POV on Wednesday, depends on if you're interested or not (it's only like 500 words max, but it'd be a fun thing to tide you over until next Monday)**

**Word Count: ~2,200**

"Is it all gone?" Sir asked and Kurt nodded, gasping to catch his breath. "Good," Sir took the bottle from him, tossing it to the other end of the room, "go to it, lose the pants, then stand with your back to the wall, eyes closed."

Kurt did as he was told, pressing his back gingerly to the cool wall for support and waited. Kurt's rolled his shoulders, starting to feel abnormally hot, his skin starting to prickle and itch. He shifted in place, squeezing his eyes shut as his pulse raced.

"Still," Sir ordered, suddenly in front of him. Kurt flinched on instinct and Sir wrenched his left nipple in punishment. He cried out even as his cock lept in interest, a mortified flush tinting his cheeks and slowly spreading down his neck as Sir continued twisting and his cock filled, leaving him dizzy and panting.

Sir's hand left as quickly as it had come and he grabbed first one wrist, wrapping rough rope tightly around it before pulling him up on his tiptoes and attaching it to something of the wall behind him, and then repeating the process with the other.

Kurt's pulse raced in his ears, throat closing up in panic at being tied so helplessly. Before he had the option to fight back, even if he knew Sir could easily overpower him and it would never end well, it was a possibility. Now even his choice of defiance was gone. Kurt tried to fight down the anxiety as it started coursing through his veins, focussing on Sir's hands as he tied a piece of fabric over his eyes, Sir's body heat that he could feel only inches away from his naked flesh, the distinct feeling of Sir looming over him, watching him like a cat excited to play with the mouse it had caught. It's wasn't necessarily calming, but at least he wasn't alone. Until Sir finished with his adjustments and stepped away.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat, a chill running down his spine at the loss of contact, the pounding in his ears was so loud he couldn't hear Sir moving around the room. He didn't know where he was, if he'd left the room entirely, if he was coming back. Without even making the conscious decision to do so, Kurt' started screaming, thrashing desperately in his restraints as he begged to be let out.

"Please, Sir, please! Don't leave me, please, please, let me down, let me down, please, please, please," Kurt's voice was weak, breath shuddering with sobs as the panic started to take over and his pleas turned to wordless shouts. Vaguely he thought he could hear Sir telling him to shut up but he didn't know how, he just need to be freed, he needed out.

"Quiet!" Sir yelled, hand covering his mouth and nose. Kurt twisted his head in alarm, as his already shallow breathing was completely cut off. He jerked and pulled, mouth weakly moving to try and make some kind of plea but all he got was a pitiful distressed whine. His lungs ached and his vision started to speckle and he slumped in his restraints, jaw still flexing as he tried to pull in a gasp of air.

Just when Kurt was sure he was going to pass out, Sir finally removed his hand and Kurt sucked in a desperate breath, body shaking. Sir gripped his hair, yanking his head back, "You like that, bitch, you like not being able to breathe, you like me holding your life in my hands?" Kurt shook his head as best as he could in Sir's strong grip, still taking in quick breaths. "No?" Sir asked incredulously, "Are you sure? Because this little guy seems to think differently?" he slid his hand slowly down Kurt's body to grip his achingly hard cock.

Kurt whimpered in disgrace, trying to understand why he was still hard or why he'd even gotten hard in the first place. Sir started slowly pumping his fist. It was too dry and too tight but Kurt couldn't stop his hips from pushing forward into the hand holding him.

"Look at you, loving this, humping my hand like the dirty little whore you are. Bet you can't wait for us to auction off your virginity," his other hand reached around to grip Kurt's ass, fingers digging into his crack and brushing against his hole as they urged him to keep going, move faster, "You've probably been looking for a nice cock to fill you up, and we're going to give it to you. You should thank us for taking you so you can be the slut you deserve to be."

Kurt whined, a slimy feeling settling in his gut even as it churned faster and faster, signalling his approaching orgasm.

"Say thank you, bitch."

"Thank you, sir," Kurt mumbled without even thinking about, hips stuttering as his balls drew tight, but then the friction was gone as Sir took a step back, leaving Kurt gasping and trusting into the air, body tense and so close.

Sir walked away to the other side of the room, leaving Kurt to cool down, but even as his body slowly relaxed so that his arousal was just a gentle but persistent simmer under the surface, his mind raced, filled with confusion, disgust, and guilt.

* * *

When Sir returned, he took Kurt's right hand down from the wall, and untied the rope. Kurt winced as his fingers circled his wrist, skin raw and red, burning and slippery with what Kurt could only guess was blood.

"You know how to masturbate, don't you?" he asked, directing Kurt's hand to his cock, curling his fingers around the length.

"Yes, Sir," Kurt whispered, a blush colouring his cheeks. "Dry, Sir," he said as he started to stroke slowly.

"You'll get used to it," Sir replied, "and you're horny enough that the precome will slick it up soon."

Kurt nodded, taking in a shaky breath, eyes squeezing shut beneath the blindfold. He was almost grateful for the lack of sight, while he could still feel Sir's body so close to his, he didn't have to see the leer he knew would be on his face.

Soon enough, just like Sir said, his precome started slicking the friction and his hips started working, thrusting up into his hand as his breath came in sharp gasps. Sir gripped his throat, holding tight enough to restrict his breath and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You're close, aren't you?" Kurt nodded weakly. "How close? Are you just about there? Are you ready tip over the edge? Are you balls drawing up tight? Is the arousal in your stomach curled to the point it can't curl anymore? Just waiting to snap?" Kurt nodded desperately. "Good," Sir hissed, pulling his hand away and placing it on his own aching cock, "Get me there too."

* * *

Kurt didn't know how not orgasming could be so exhausting, but Sir managed to keep him on edge all day, making him go back and forth between stroking himself till he thought he was going to burst and making him stop and then jack him off. Sir was lucky enough to get a few orgasms out of the deal, and Kurt was unlucky enough to be the one to lick them off his hand. By the end of the day Kurt's hand was cramped and his cock ached, but he was pretty damn confident in his ability to give a statisfying hand job.

He dropped to his knees the second Sir released his other hand, legs too weak to hold him up. Sir took the blindfold off and handed Kurt his pants back. He looked up at him in confusion, shouldn't he get his whipping _first _and then get to put his pants back on. He took them and started crawling to the whipping bench but Sir stopped him.

"No whipping today, just go back to your room," he said.

Kurt's jaw dropped but he nodded, standing shakily and slipping back into his pants, walking swiftly towards the door before Sir changed his mind.

"Bitch," he called after him as he was turning the knob, making Kurt freeze and his head bow in resignation, "no masturbating in your room. That roommate of yours may like you, but I know how to make him squeal."

Kurt nodded, brow slightly furrowed, before stepping out the door and hurrying back to his room. Blaine wasn't there when he got back and he wasn't sure if he was grateful for the time alone or not. Mostly he wanted to fix up his wrists, but he didn't know if Blaine would be okay with him going through his stuff to find what he needed.

So he sat on his bed and tried to not let his mind wander. He didn't want to think of today's training, he didn't want to think of what might lie in his future, he certainly didn't want to think of his past, all the friends and family that would never find him, so he counted the bricks on the walls, and when he lost track he counted the cracks in the floor, then he made his bed, then Blaine's bed, and he tidied up what little was lying out in the open, until there was nothing left to do and he thought back on his training.

He'd liked it. The thought left a bad tasted in his mouth. He didn't like it, he'd been terrified at first, and confused, and not being able to come but being hard for that long hurt like a bitch… but he'd still been hard. So he liked it… right? But no, he didn't, he couldn't have, just because he'd gotten pleasure out of it didn't mean he actually liked it.

But he'd gotten _pleasure _out of it, he let Sir stroke him and he liked it, he'd liked him twisting his nipples and cutting of his breath, he liked jerking off in front of him, he liked jerking Sir off... he'd stayed hard through it all, so he must have liked it on some level. He'd strained and begged for an orgasm, god, he'd even thanked him for keeping him captive here… because he liked it.

Kurt felt sick, he felt the bile rising in his throat and rushed to the toilet in the corner of the room, emptying the little contents of his stomach (crackers Blaine had given him that morning) into the metal bowl. Kurt remained kneeling by the toilet, rotating between sobbing and dry heaving until he heard the door open. He scrambled back to his bed, wiping his eyes and mouth hastily as he tried to hide under the covers, but his body still shook with silent sobs and the door had barely shut before Blaine was rushing to his side.

"Oh, Kurt," he cooed gently, pulling the blanket down to check his back, brow furrowing when he didn't see anything that looked like new marks, "Kurt… where are you hurt?" he asked quietly, resting his hand on his shoulder but Kurt just shook his head, "Please, Kurt, let me help you."

Kurt held up his hand up so Blaine could see the marks on his wrists from the rope even though it was the least of his problems. Blaine nodded, scurrying off to his cabinet before returning to Kurt's side.

"Can you turn over?" he requested, "I can get to your wrists easier that way."

Kurt sniffled and flipped over, not looking Blaine in the eye as he presented his wrists. Blaine gave him a soft smile as he set to work, gently cleaning the rubbed-raw skin and wrapping gauze around it. He taped it in place and set his supplies to the side, holding Kurt's hand in his and gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb. Kurt stared at the opposite wall, lost in his thoughts, he glanced their hands once before speaking.

"I hate you, you know," he whispered quietly.

Blaine blinked once and started to pull his hands away but Kurt gripped them tighter.

"I don't understand you, nothing you do make sense and I hate you for it. All the pain is understandable, I'm a slave, an object to Sir, of course he would hurt me. But why are you so nice? How are you so nice? What's your angle? Why do I trust you?"

Blaine swallowed thickly, "I don't know," he replied, "I guess it's just who I am."

"No one is this nice, no one is this nice while living in this hell hole, not without an angle, some reason, something _you _get from it. What do you get?"

Blaine didn't respond.

Kurt's face crumpled as he launched himself at Blaine, causing the other boy to flinch, but all he did was wrap his arms around his waist and cry into his stomach. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," he whimpered, body wracked with sobs.

Blaine cautiously lowered his hands to Kurt's hair, running his fingers through it soothingly, "Then why do you want me to hold you?"

"I don't know," Kurt breathed, "Because you're the only one I have… the only one who hasn't hurt me. I don't know how to trust you, I can't, but I want to, and that terrifies me, because I don't know if you deserve it."


	5. Blaine Interlude

**Warnings: Slavery and nightmares**

**A/N: Super super short, takes place immediately after chapter 4.**

**Word Count: ~300**

Eventually Kurt's sobs slowed and his breathing evened out but he still held tight to Blaine's waist, arms locked around him and not budging when Blaine tried to move back to his own bed.

Blaine gave up with a sad smile, shifting down until he was lying on his back and Kurt could rest comfortably with his head on Blaine's stomach. Blaine played with Kurt's hair, twining it between and around his fingers before untwisting it and letting it go. It was oily and in desperate need of a wash, but the soft, happy snuffles Kurt made every time he did it kept his fingers running through it.

Blaine had had roommates that found peace in their sleep. No matter what their trainers had done to them that day or threatened to do to them in the future, in their sleep they were calm. Face serene, muscles lax, breathing even, dreams either happy or non existent.

Kurt was not one of them. While his breathing was mostly even, it would hitch every once in a while, turning into sharp, pained gasps before slowing into deep calming breath. His brow was furrowed, lips twisted into a grimace of pain, anger, humiliation, and his muscles were tense, squeezing Blaine too tight at moments and his hands constantly clenching and unclenching where they rested at the small of Blaine's back.

He moved a lot too, legs twisting and kicking, head jerking up and around before pressing fervently into Blaine's stomach with shaking breaths. Blaine did his best to soothe him, but he knew it was mostly pointless, the dreams were relentless and waking him would only remind him that they weren't only dreams.


	6. Chapter 5

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, slavery, bondage, oral, breathplay, whipping.**

**A/N: Sorry I'm a day late, guys. I'm on vacation and didn't have time to write because I refuse to write porn with my nine month old nephew sitting on my lap. But it's up now, and this is longer than any of the other chapters, so enjoy.**

**Word Count: ~3,000**

The set up was uncomfortable and terrifying. Arms twisted and bound behind his back, pressing his chest forward, calves strapped to his thighs and a pole attached to a machine of some sort strapped to his head, one strap tight across his forehead and the other across his chin, keeping him effectively in place and at the mercy of whatever the machine was going to do to him. Sir fit a ring gag into his mouth as a final touch before walking away in search of what else he needed.

And Kurt only had himself to blame. He wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't have fought it, had just done as he was told, but it just seemed so stupid. He couldn't learn from sucking off a toy, it wouldn't respond the same way an actual cock would, it wouldn't taste anything like an actual cock would, and there wouldn't be someone on the other end to tell him if he was doing it correctly. And he especially couldn't learn on the pathetic little dildo Sir had tossed him, it was too small, and even if some of the clients he had were sized that way, he needed to be prepared for bigger.

And now he was getting his wish as Sir brought a stand with a much larger dildo attached to it, bigger than him, bigger than some of the guys he'd seen the one time he tried to watch porn, and positioned it so the head was resting just inside of Kurt's mouth.

"I was going to let you start slow, work at your own pace, learn the basics on something small before moving you up to the big leagues, but since you seem to think you can handle it, who am I to deny the little whore?"

Kurt tried to mumble an apology, but the gag and the dildo made it so all that came out was a garbled mess that didn't sound anything like a sentence.

Sir didn't respond to his attempt to speak, walking behind him and switching on the machine. Kurt jerked as it started up, shoving his head forward onto the dildo, forcing it down his throat. Kurt gagged and sputtered, struggling against his binds, gasping when it pulled his head back enough for him to breath, only to press him forward again.

Tears filled Kurt's eyes as his head was worked up and down on the dildo. The speed quickened and Kurt wasn't sure whether it was better or not, his breathing wasn't cut off for very long, but it also meant there wasn't a lot of time to breath before the cock was shoved down his throat again.

Kurt twisted desperately as he started to feel light headed, not being able to pull in enough air to soothe the burning of his lungs. He was crying openly now, tears mixing with sweat and snot and spit on his face. When his vision started blur around the edges and he wasn't even managing to grab a breath when he got the chance because he was so panicked, Sir shut the machine off.

Kurt gasped for air around the dildo still resting in his mouth, shaking violently. Sir came to stand in front of him, pulling the stand just far enough away so Kurt's mouth was free.

"Did you like that, bitch?" he asked sweetly. Kurt tried to shake his head but the machines prevented him from doing so. "I'm sure you did, but I think it's time to move on to the real thing. If I take the gag out, do you promise not to bite?" Kurt nodded and sir slipped the ring gag from his mouth, releasing his head from the straps of the machine as well and Kurt almost sighed in relief.

Sir walked away for a minute, leaving Kurt bound where he was. He came back with a water bottle that he pressed to Kurt's lips. Kurt drank, happy for something to soothe the burning of his throat and was surprised when Sir gave him moments to breathe as he worked through the bottle. When it was empty Sir threw the bottle in the trash and left the room.

Kurt forced down his panic at being left alone, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths while reminding himself that Sir would come back eventually and wouldn't just leave him there, bound and helpless.

As he waited, the familiar itch from the day before started under his skin, making him feel hot and desperate. He shifted as his cock started to harden without any help at all, just slowly filling until he was aching for some kind of touch. His mind was muddled but he knew something was off, that Sir had done something to him.

It became increasingly hard to keep still as he wiggled to try and free himself, even though he knew it was hopeless. His hips tried to thrust into the air, seeking out some sort of friction, but they couldn't get very far with the frog tie keeping his legs folded in half.

Kurt whined, eyes closing as his whole body buzzed with arousal, not sure how much longer he could wait for some kind of release-even if it was just a gentle brush across his chest or face, something to ease the burn-when the door opened.

He heard the footsteps crossing the room toward him and then something dropping to the ground in front of him with a heavy thud. His eyes fluttered open and widened, blood draining from his face.

"I brought you a playmate, bitch," Sir said brightly.

Horror and betrayal twisted in Kurt's gut and he felt like he was going to throw up, because kneeling in front of him, was a completely naked Blaine. Blaine gave him a sad smile and all Kurt wanted to do was slap that look of his face. He'd know this would happen, he'd expected it, right from the beginning, and still, like and idiot, he let his guard down, let Blaine in. And here he was, proving himself to be exactly what Kurt thought. One of them.

"I know you're already acquainted, but I thought I'd reintroduce you. Bitch," he said, patting Kurt's head, "mett Dog. Dog, Bitch. The two of your are going to get to know each other even better today. More precisely, Dog's dick is going to become very intimate with your throat, Bitch. Does that sound fun?"

Kurt didn't respond, looking at the ground as his lips quivered. He knew he didn't have a choice and saying no would only get him slapped, so he remained silent.

Sir handed Blaine a bottle of water, "Drink up, Dog."

Kurt raised his eyes carefully, "What's in the water?" he asked, voice shaking. He didn't really have to ask, he could guess, and the fact that he'd been given it, twice probably, without even knowing terrified him. How often would they drug him without even telling him so he could be prepared?

Sir smirked, "Just a stimulant. It makes you more… willing. When you're too horny to even think, you're less likely to say no."

Kurt really was going to be sick, he felt the bile rising in his throat. Blaine gave him a warning look and Kurt knew it would not be in his best interests to puke so he choked it back, breathing harshly through his nose.

"What, do you not like how it makes you feel?" Sir asked, running a finger up his throat to lift his chin. Kurt shuddered, cock throbbing between his legs. "Because it sure seems like you do," he said, nudging his foot against Kurt's balls, "seems like you did yesterday too, if all the begging you did was an indication." Kurt flushed in humiliation, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"I'm done, Sir," Blaine said quietly, holding the empty bottle up. Kurt almost sighed when Sir stepped away from him to throw the bottle away.

"Sit and enjoy each other's company for a bit, boys," Sir said, leaving the room again.

Kurt concentrated hard on the pain in his shoulders and the numbness in his legs to avoid thinking about the arousal still churning in his stomach impatiently, or the way Blaine was starting to harden. Blaine was much better at dealing with the effects of the drugs, because other than a few quickened breaths and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, he seemed entirely unaffected, much to Kurt's disdain as he fought futilely against his shifting hips and tensing thighs.

Blaine didn't speak and Kurt wasn't sure if he should be grateful that Blaine wasn't trying to keep up his friendly act or not. Sir wasn't gone as long this time, apparently just waiting for Blaine to get fully hard rather than make him stew like he was doing to Kurt.

"Up, Dog," Sir ordered and Blaine climbed to his feet, legs shaking minutely before he steeled them. Sir nudged Blaine forward until his cock was pressed against Kurt's lips. "Now, I normally wouldn't care if he were anyone else, but this dog is one of our most profitable toys, so if you bite him, you'll get far worse than whipping, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Kurt mumbled.

"Good, bitch, now we're going to let you work at your own pace for now, make it good or it's back to the machine."

Kurt nodded, dropping his jaw and gently sinking down over the head. He kept his gaze hard as he watched Blaine's reactions as he experimented, sucking hard, sucking lightly, swirling his tongue around the head, pressing it hard against the frenulum or dipping it into the slit. The taste wasn't horrible, the little bit he'd gotten from mouthing Sir through his underwear days before had been much worse. Blaine tasted cleaner, still musky and slightly bitter, but not the putrid taste of Sir's crotch. He sounded better too, the small gasps and bit off whines much more pleasing to Kurt's ear than Sir's filthy moans.

Kurt pressed further in, taking more of Blaine into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the rigid vein on the underside of Blaine's cock, He hummed, letting his eyes fall shut at the delightfully shuddering moan Blaine released and he did it again, trying to find which notes and intensities pulled the most broken of sounds from Blaine's throat.

He barely noticed when he started rubbing himself against Blaine's leg, hips thrusting desperately as he fought his binds. The pain was a shock, a sharp crack of the riding crop against the swollen head of his cock. Kurt pulled off of a Blaine with a choked cry, doubling over to protect his throbbing genitals. Sir laide five more quick smacks across his ass and Kurt sobbed with the pain of it, the sensitivity of his skin increasing the pain to the point where Kurt was barely able to think of anything accept the six points of white hot agony across his body.

Sir gripped his hair tightly, pulling him up and he tried to squeeze his legs shut to protect himself. Sir trailed the riding crop up the length of his cock, "Did I tell you were allowed to pleasure yourself?" Kurt whimpered but shook his head. "So why did you think it would be okay to rub your filthy, slutty cock across him?"

"I-I-"

Sir snapped the crop against one of his balls and Kurt screamed, twisting desperately in his grasp. Sir brought it down on the other one and Kurt's wail was one of pure agony, tears leaking out as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sir released him and he dropped forward, curling in on himself as much as he could.

"Remember this burn next time you think you're in control of your own pleasure," he said darkly and started to walk away. "Fuck his mouth, Dog," Sir ordered.

Blaine hesitated above him, "S-shouldn't he get a moment to recover, Sir?"

Sir sighed, stalking back over and landing three more hard cracks across Kurt's ass, making the boy sob harder. "Pull him up and fuck his mouth, now," he growled.

Blaine nodded, swallowing hard before sinking his hand into Kurt's hair and tugging gently. Kurt resisted, terrified of another assault on his sensitive genitals. Blaine persisted though, continuing to tug carefully. Sir didn't say anything as he laid another smack on Kurt's backside. Blaine steeled himself, pulling a little more roughly, forcing Kurt to kneel up.

Tears tracked their way down Kurt's face as Blaine pressed his cock to his mouth. Kurt opened his lips shakily, whole body shuddering. Blaine pressed in carefully, pulling out just as gently. He kept his thrusts shallow, even as his pace quickened, cautious of breaching the back of Kurt's throat. He rested a hand in Kurt's hair soothingly and Kurt glared at him with tear filled eyes, giving him just a hint of teeth until he let his hand drop back to his side.

"You can go deeper than that, Dog," Sir barked, "unless you want me to strap him back in, he _loved _that machine."

Kurt drew in a panicked breath, hands twisting behind his back, desperate to grab Blaine and make him go deeper, anything to keep himself from being at the mercy of that horrible machine.

Blaine took a deep breath before carefully pressing in deeper. Kurt gagged and he pulled back quickly, giving him a moment to breath before trying again. No matter how much Kurt tried to relax, his throat was unaccepting of the intrusion and Sir was impatient.

He grabbed Kurt's head and Blaine's ass, forcing them together with Kurt's nose pressed to Blaine's stomach. He twisted and jerked, throat convulsing around Blaine's cock as he tried to pull in a breath through his nose.

"He-he can't breathe," Blaine panted, trying to pull away, but Sir held him tight. "Sir, please," Blaine begged, but Sir ignored him.

When sir released them, Kurt doubled over pulling in frantic breaths. Blaine dropped to his knees as well, rubbing his back soothingly. "He's done, Sir," Blaine pleaded, "he can't take anymore."

Sir rolled his eyes, "Doesn't matter if he can, he will take what I give him. Continue."

Blaine stood carefully, gently but firmly pulling Kurt up as well. Blaine didn't hold back this time, knowing there was only one way to end this. He thrust quick and deep, Kurt coughed and sputtered around him, but he tried to ignore it, only shortening his thrusts when Kurt's breathing got too shallow. He chased his own orgasm, feeling the arousal tightening in his stomach.

"Close, Sir," he breathed.

"All the way down, hold him against you until you come," he ordered.

"Sir, I-"

Sir raised the riding crop, ready to strike Kurt again and Blaine didn't hesitate, pulling him tight against him. Kurt whined, the vibrations and the sporadic clenching of his throat sending Blaine spiraling over the edge, leaving Kurt no choice but to swallow or choke.

Blaine pulled out when he was finished, dropping to his knees in front of Kurt, head bowed as he panted and shuddered through the aftershocks. Kurt was still achingly hard but he didn't seem to care, focussing too much on catching his breath.

Sir sliced through the ropes around Kurt's arms and the boy pulled them stiffly in front of him to wrap them around himself. Sir left the ropes on his legs as he retrieved his whip. "Ten lashing each," Sir told them, "for your hesitation and arguing."

Blaine opened his mouth as Sir brought the first striked down on Kurt's back, "One word out of you, Dog, and he gets all twenty." Blaine snapped his jaw shut, squeezing his eyes shut hearing the rhythmic _snap, cry, snap, cry, snap, cry, _through Kurt's whipping. He took his own without a sound.

"Get up and take him to the showers," Sir commanded, "he reeks."

Blaine led Kurt from the room. Kurt's walk was stilted, his legs stiff and sore, the marks from the crop and the whip still painful, and his very persistent hard on was no help either. Blaine closed and locked the door behind them. Kurt stiffed a few feet away, his head hanging. Blaine went to the cabinets, pulling out some ointment for Kurt's marks. The pop of the cap made him jump into action, moving quickly away from Blaine, pressing his back to the wall.

"I'm supposed to be a virgin," he whimpered.

Blaine froze, noticing the terrified look in Kurt's eyes and the way he was trembling violently. "What?"

"They-they want me to be a virgin… you-you can't-please don't."

Blaine frowned, looking down at the bottle in his hand, "It's just ointment, Kurt, the same stuff I've been putting on you since your first day or training. I wouldn't do that to you, I promise."

Kurt didn't move, "You promise?" he asked, weakly, "What good are your promises, Blaine?"

Blaine's heart dropped, "Kurt, I-"

"No, No, I-I trusted you. I knew I shouldn't, but I did. I trusted you and I let you in and I let you take care of me and you betrayed me!"

"Kurt, I didn't wa-"

"Don't, don't pretend," Kurt snapped, "this is your job, isn't it? I bet they put all the new slaves in your room, so you can make the trust you, make them think you care, only to rip it all out from under them when you prove yourself to be the traitor you are! You're working with them, and I was stupid enough to fall for it."

Blaine floundered, he wanted to deny it, but he knew that from Kurt's perspective that was exactly what had happened. So he just stood there, dumbly, and Kurt took it as confirmation.

"You know what?" Kurt asked, "You're worse than Sir," and he slipped away, into the showers. Blaine heard the water turn on, but the sound wasn't enough to mask the heart wrenching sobs.


	7. Chapter 6

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, slavery, face slapping, anal fingering.**

**A/N: Sorry, sorry, sorry, I planned to have this up on Monday and then Monday didn't work out, so then I was shooting for Wednesday, and then Wednesday didn't happen and now it is Friday and I am so, so, so terribly sorry, but this is kind of an important chapter so I didn't want to rush it. Also, I have been trying to keep this from Kurt's POV, but part of this demanded to be written in Blaine's POV, so that's a thing that might happen more often from now on (definitely next chapter, then we'll see what happens after that that says it wants you guys to see it through Blaine's eyes) Also (another also, jeeze Monica, just shut up) The end of this chapter will not be the end of this training day, I have more planned to be written, and I haven't decided if I'll just smash it and the next day of training together or if the rest of this day will be it's own chapter, but just know, there will be more, it just seemed like a really great place to end the chapter…. and make you guys hate me. Enjoy!**

**Word Count: ~1,900**

Kurt was kneeling stiffly beside Blaine shivering in the cold draft of the room. Sir had given them each their own bottle of water and then left the room. Kurt waited for the drugs to take effect, but nothing was happening. Not to him at least. Blaine's breathing was shallow, his eyes closed as he seemed to fight the urge to squirm against the itch under his skin that Kurt knew well now, his fingers curled with nails digging into his thighs. Kurt wasn't sure how he could stand to be so hard, with his hands so close, and not touch himself.

But mostly he was just scared. Scared of why they had drugged Blaine and not him. His legs squeezed tightly shut because the only reason he could think of, was that Blaine was going to fuck him. And apparently his suspicions were right when Sir walked back into the room and dropped a bottle of lube between them.

Kurt took a deep breath through quivering lips, clenching all his muscles tight to try and stop his shaking. He'd known losing his virginity was going to be horrible no matter what, but did Sir really have to watch it happen? He couldn't even have a bit of privacy while the last bit of innocence was ripped away?

But Blaine didn't reach for the lube. "He's a virgin, Sir," he stated quietly.

Sir scoffed, "Oh trust me, dog, I know. And you will not be the receiver of the privilege to fuck his tight little ass for the first time." Kurt flinched involuntarily. "But, that doesn't mean he can't have a little help learning how to stretch himself."

Kurt sagged slightly in relief, reaching a trembling hand out for the bottle. He let out a sharp cry when Sir's booted foot came down on his fingers.

"What do you think you're doing, bitch?" he asked, grinding his foot down when Kurt tried to pull his hand away.

"I-I… I thought-"

"You thought you'd do it yourself? You thought you were allowed to touch your greedy little hole?"

"I-I didn't-I," Kurt whimpered in pain, "you said… I n-need to learn, I just-"

Sir tsked, "Not yet, first the dog will stretch you, then you will learn."

Kurt's breath sped up, "But-but, can't I just do it my-myself? Please, Sir, I-I don't need him to do it. I shou-should be untouched, right? It's better if-if I just do it?"

Sir chuckled darkly, "You really don't want him to touch you, do you?"

Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was obediently keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him, and shook his head.

"Would you prefer if I did it?" Sir asked. Kurt thought, Sir would be rougher with him, he wouldn't stretch him as much as possible, just to watch him squirm in pain with the press of each new finger. It would hurt and he would feel used and violated, even without actually being fucked. But it wouldn't screw with his head like Blaine's gentle hands and soothing whispers would, making him relax and trust him even as he was raping him.

"P-please, Sir," Kurt pleaded quietly, head bowed, "I want you to-to finger m-me." Kurt blushed brightly in humiliation, disgusted at having to say those words.

Sir gripped his chin, raising his head until he was forced to meet Sir's eyes. "Say it again," he ordered.

Kurt swallowed hard, wetting his lips, "Please finger me, Sir," he whispered.

"Louder," Sir barked.

"I want you to finger me, Sir," Kurt said, raising his voice but looking away, heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

Sir's hand left his chin, returning in a flash to strike the side of his face once with his palm then returning to backhand the other cheek. Kurt choked back a cry, forcing himself to remain upright.

"Beg, bitch," Sir hissed, "beg me to touch you, to finger your sluttty hole, beg me to sully my hands with your filth, whore."

Kurt's jaw trembled, mouth opening and closing silently, but he couldn't force the words out, couldn't call himself those things.

"Thought so," Sir said with a cruel sneer. He ground his foot down into Kurt's hand one more time, making him jerk and whimper, before stepping off of it and kicking the lube towards Blaine. It skidded into Blaine's calf and he reached down to pick it up carefully. Blaine turned slowly towards him, with wide, warm eyes and hands raised in front of him.

Kurt shook his head, scooting away from Blaine. "Please, Sir," he tried to plead, tears clogging his throat, "please, p-please, fuck…" he took a deep breath, "please fuck my-my dirty little who-whore hole."

Sir just rolled his eyes and walked away, "Hop to, dog," he snapped, "it's not like you need his permission."

* * *

Blaine edged towards Kurt slowly, trying to not startle him, but it became pretty apparent from the desperate shaking of Kurt's head that there was going to be no calming him down. He touched Kurt's arm carefully and the other boy jerked away. "It's okay, Kurt," Blaine said gently, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Kurt scrambled away when Blaine reached for him again. "Don't touch me," he snapped, hands clenched into tight fists.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine murmured, though he wasn't sure what he was begging for. Please trust me? Please don't hate me? Please realize I don't want to do this? Please don't make me force you? Kurt's only reaction was to scoot farther away.

Blaine didn't have to look to know that Sir was still there, watching them, and likely growing impatient. He wouldn't change his mind and do it himself if Kurt kept resisting Blaine, he would just tie Kurt up and whip him bloody and then still make Blaine finger him.

Blaine took a deep breath, put the bottle of lube between his teeth, and moved quickly. Kurt was taken by surprise, hands flying up to protect himself. Blaine grabbed one wrist, twisting it behind Kurt and pressing it to the small of his back, when Kurt flailed the other arm behind him, trying to hit Blaine, Blaine just snagged it too, working for a minute to get a grip on both of Kurt's wrists with one hand before gently pushing him down into the floor, face pressed to the carpet and ass in the air. Kurt kicked and struggled against him but Blaine just wedged himself between Kurt's legs, spreading his own knees to separate Kurt's. He pulled the lube from his mouth with his free hand, but waited.

He pressed his chest to Kurt's back, mouth next to his ear. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered but Kurt kept struggling against him despite the fact that he was going nowhere, not with the way Blaine was holding him. He whimpered, hands twisting in Blaine's grasp, Blaine loosened his grip, not enough for Kurt to break it but enough to lessen the pain. "Please, Kurt, this will be easier if you just relax."

"Get the-the fuck… offa me," Kurt ground out, breathing heavily.

Sir cleared his throat behind them, making Kurt flinch and let out a quiet cry of mortification and Blaine knew what was going through his head. He was going to be raped, by _Blaine_, and Sir was going to watch it happen. He wouldn't even get privacy during this. Blaine licked his lips, pressing his forehead to the back of Kurt's neck and taking a deep breath before sitting back on his knees.

Blaine fumbled to get the bottle open with only one hand, dropping it a few times as Sir started tapping his foot impatiently, making Blaine's heart pound and palms sweat. Even once he got it open, he realized he had no way to get the lube onto his fingers, he couldn't release Kurt's arms, he'd be out of his grip in no time with the use of his hands and one handed was impractical and basically impossible. He dropped his head onto where Kurt's were held at the small of his back and breathed.

"Sir?" he called, feeling Kurt tense underneath him, "I-I… I need help… with the lube?" he left in a question.

"Use your spit," Sir snapped and Kurt's struggled returned with such renewed vigor that Blaine had to bodily hold him down, free arm wrapping around Kurt's middle to keep him from yanking away.

"That-that'll damage him, Sir," Blaine said, "he's a virgin, we-we…" he fought down the nausea to force himself to keep speaking, "we don't want to t-tear him and lessen his value."

Sir was quiet and Blaine stayed still, hand rubbing soothing circles on Kurt's stomach to try and calm his quick breathing, so fast now he was near hyperventilation. Finally he heard Sir approach, he saw him out of the corner of his eye, crouch down to pick up the discarded bottle.

"Hand," Sir barked and Blaine gave Kurt's stomach one last comforting rub before holding his hand out to Sir. Sir squirted a mediocre amount of lube onto Blaine's finger. "Make it last, dog, I'm not helping you again."

Blaine nodded, rubbing his fingers together to try and spread it around before leaning back. Blaine rubbed gently over Kurt's hole, feeling the way he tightened up immediately, struggled weakly, and sobbed quietly. Blaine continued to stroke carefully waiting as long as he could for Kurt to relax before pressing in slowly. Kurt let out a high whine, twisting desperately in his grasp, legs squeezing tightly around Blaine's body as they tried, in vain, to close. Blaine sunk to the knuckle, twisting his hand so his thumb could rub soft circled into Kurt's perineum.

Kurt twitched and whimpered as Blaine carefully pulled his finger out before sinking it back in. He continued with slow repetition until he felt Kurt was open enough and carefully slipped a second finger in. Kurt hissed at the burn, clenching around Blaine's fingers. "Shh," Blaine hushed him, trying to give his wrists a comforting squeeze, "just relax, gorgeous, you're doing wonderful." Blaine didn't know how Kurt would react to the praise, knowing it helped some and hurt others, and he couldn't quite tell from the way Kurt sagged in his grasp, breath hitching minutely, which it was.

As he picked up a quicker rhythm, scissoring his fingers inside of Kurt, he started to notice that Kurt wasn't fighting him anymore. He was still shuddering but his hands were still and loose in Blaine's grip, his legs we spread slightly wider than Blaine's knees were forcing them, and he was no longer clenching tightly around Blaine's fingers, trying to force them out. Blaine leaned up carefully, trying not to put too much pressure on Kurt's back, and got a look at Kurt's face. Lips open and letting out trembling breaths, eyes wet with tears, and splotchy tracks running down his cheeks, but his expression was blank, eyes staring into nothingness. Blaine had seen this look before, worn it himself, felt the kind of pain and fear that brought you to the point where it was better to feel nothing. Kurt, was broken.


	8. Chapter 7

**Warnings: Noncon/dubcon, slavery, face slapping, anal fingering, oral, whipping, gagging, talk of sexual assault of a child (age 12 - There will be more talk of this is the future, as of right now I don't plan to include a full scene including this in the fic, but I may eventually do a one shot or something)**

**A/N: I have zero excuses for how long this update has taken, so I'm just gonna drop this here and leave. Side note, this is a Blaine heavy chapter that hints at some of his back story, enjoy.**

**Word Count: ~1,900**

Blaine's chest felt tight as he stared at Kurt's empty face. He glanced nervously back at Sir, not sure how he would react to Kurt's shutting off, giddily and start cruelly taunting him to see how gone he was, or angrily and try to beat him back into awareness, neither one would be fun to watch. Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's wrists, hoping the slight pain might jolt him back but he remained lax in Blaine's hold. He carefully let go, heart pounding as Kurt's arms fell to his sides, not even a twitch of defiance in them.

Blaine pulled his fingers out, getting more lube now that he had both hands to work with and cautiously pressed back in with three. Kurt barely tensed underneath him at the added stretch that had to burn at least a little. Blaine sat and thought, pumping his fingers in and out to keep Sir from noticing his distractions. Pain and freedom did nothing to bring him back…. but maybe pleasure would.

Blaine expertly crooked his fingers downward, searching for the small bundle of nerves that would drag Kurt back to him on waves of pleasure. He knew he found it when he jolted a sharp gasp punctuated by a deep moan and his fingers curling into the carpet as his hips unconsciously pressed his ass further towards Blaine, clenching around his fingers to try and draw them in deeper.

Blaine sagged a bit in relief, keeping up a near constant pressure on Kurt's prostate as he twisted his fingers within him. Kurt's breath was quick, the quiet little sounds of pleasure he was letting out affecting Blaine enough to bring his own erection to the front of his mind. It had been a while since Blaine had trouble ignoring his own arousal, especially one that was mostly artificially induced, but as he watched Kurt's cock fill and twitch where it hung heavy between the boy's legs, his hips jerking to find friction where there was none to be had, he found himself making short, aborted thrusts against the back of his thigh.

Kurt started shaking his head, mewling quietly and Blaine made a conscious effort to keep himself still, but even then his cock jerked with every whimper Kurt released and Blaine had to breathe deeply to try and ignore it. He couldn't remember the last time arousal had made him feel so desperate, he was very good at containing himself, no matter how many drugs they pumped into him, and to suddenly me struggling, and to be struggling because of what he was being forced to do to Kurt… he felt sick to his stomach.

"P-please," Kurt sobbed quietly, and Blaine complied stroking across the bundle of nerves, but Kurt just jerked and cried harder, hands scrabbling across the carpet like he wanted to crawl away but just didn't have the energy too. "Stop… ple-please, Bla-ine, _stop_."

It hit Blaine, that Kurt knew he couldn't (or more _wouldn't_ in Kurt's head) stop fingering him. All he was asking was that Blaine not make him like it, to stop forcing him to feel good as he was being raped. Blaine's heart broke, but he shifted his fingers and kept the away from Kurt's prostate as much as he could, only stroking across it again when he felt Kurt start to shut down, jolting him back to awareness with a quick and pleasurable prod before resuming his work.

"Time's up," Sir called and Blaine jolted out of his focus on Kurt, carefully pulling his fingers out and backing away. Kurt made to crawl away, to the corner to hide, just away from that spot, away from Blaine, or just to move and regain control of his shaking limbs, Blaine wasn't sure, but Sir's strong hands on his hips jerked him back. Kurt cried out in surprise, body going rigid in fear.

"Sir," Blaine said worriedly, heart pounding as he watched him kneel down behind Kurt. Blaine was supposed to be the only one touching him, and it was just supposed to be fingering. Kurt was a virgin, and if he got to stay that way until his auction he's at least have a slight chance of losing his virginity to someone who would be careful with it, not… not Sir, not on the floor of the training room.

"Hush, dog," Sir snapped, and Blaine recoiled, hands clenched in fear as Sir roughly shoved four fingers inside of Kurt. The slave cried out, trying to jerk away from the intrusion but Sir grabbed a fistful of his hair, using it to pulling him back. Blaine bit his lip, he should have stretched him more, god, why didn't he add his pinky, maybe he would have been more ready for Sir's massive hand and would be letting out those heartbreaking sobs that are definitely from physical pain whereas Blaine had only been hearing ones from emotional torment.

"Sir," Blaine tried again, "Sir, he's a- he's a virgin."

The hand in Kurt's hair tightened in frustration and Kurt groaned as his back was forced to curve uncomfortably. "I know that," he spat, fingers thrusting harshly, "I'm not going to fuck him," Kurt whimpered, pressing his face into the carpet, "I'm only making sure you did your job correctly."

Blaine tried to hide his relief and lowered his head submissively, "Yes, Sir, I'm sorry for interrupting, Sir."

Sir pulled back, removing his fingers with no care and releasing Kurt's hair. The boy curled into a ball where he was covering his mouth with a shaking hand. Sir stood and stalked to Blaine, slapping him squarely across the face. Blaine's head jerked from the forced but he didn't react otherwise, eyes firmly on the ground, not a sound from his mouth. Sir gripped his curls tightly and wrenched his head backward until Blaine met his eyes.

"You know what I should do for your insubordination, dog?" He growled.

"Punish me," Blaine said softly.

Sir smirked, "No, I should punish him," he said, pointing at Kurt who let out a soft whimper of fear, "whip him until he fucking passes out and make sure you watch the whole thing. How does that sound?"

Blaine tensed but said nothing, knowing begging would only encourage Sir to take that route.

"But, no, I don't need his training to be ruined because you need to relearn respect and how to keep your fucking mouth shut." Blaine nodded quickly. "So instead, you'll get ten lashes, no food today or tomorrow, and you'll spend the night with me, understood?"

Blaine's heart dropped at the thought of staying with Sir, but he knew it would be better than watching Kurt be punished for his mistakes. So he simply whispered a small, "Yes, Sir," and crawled to the bench for his lashing.

Afterward he walked with Kurt to the mess hall and sat silently as Kurt robotically ate his food. Kurt wouldn't even look at him.

Sir ordered Kurt to his knees when they got back to the training room and tossed Kurt the bottle of lube as he dealt with Blaine. Kurt fumbled with the bottle as he coated his fingers but obediently leaned forward and pushed them into himself, face scrunching as he brushed his rim that was still sensitive from Sir's brutal assault earlier. When he got the three fingers Sir pushed him down until his chest was on the carpet and his ass was in the air before repeating his earlier check. He pulled out quicker this time though and wiped his fingers on Kurt's lower back and smacking his ass as he stood.

"Go shower and go to your room, bitch. Enjoy the privacy for the night."

Kurt obediently climbed to his feet, grabbed his clothes, and left the room, not even giving Blaine a backwards glance.

Blaine was as he had been since getting back from lunch with Kurt, kneeling in the corner, hands gripping his elbows behind his back and eyes fixed on the ground, a large phallic gag shoved in his mouth, just large enough to tickle the back of his throat, eyes stinging with tears as he tried to keep relaxed against the constant intrusion.

Sir gripped his chin and yanked his head up, breaking his concentration and making him gag, jerking in Sir's hands as he coughed and retched behind the gag. Sir traced Blaine's stretched lips, smearing the spit clinging to them around his mouth.

"Such a filthy little whore," Sir mused, "I think you've forgotten your place here. Sure, you get free reign of the facilities, you get to eat three meals a day, every day, without question, and you're even allowed to help the new sluts adjust to their new lives. But don't you ever forget that you're still one of them, you started just where this little bitch is starting now, a quivering little preteen begging to go home to his mommy," Blaine flinched, trying to look away from Sir's burning gaze but his chin was held tight. "Do you think your mommy would even recognize what we've turned you into? Do you think the bitch's would recognize him?"

Blaine's eyes burned but he refused to let himself cry over things he'd already shed too many tears thinking about.

"After today you'll go back to spending your days in the Hall of Whores. No more of that 'free time until someone requests you' bullshit, back at the bottom with your little bitch, is that understood?"

Blaine nodded quickly.

"And you're back to earning your meal cards," he said, starting to unclasp the straps of the gag from behind Blaine's head, "I hope you haven't let your skills get sloppy, or you might not be eating anything but come until they're up to par." He pulled the gag from Blaine's mouth and Blaine stretched his sore jaw, panting.

"You know the drill," Sir stated, patting Blaine's cheek as he released his chin, "no hands, you have," he glanced at the clock, contemplating, "five minutes to make me come and earn one meal back."

Blaine struggled with getting his pants off, out of practice with that part, but once he had his zipper down and was able to nudge the band of his underwear down just enough to reach his cock it got easier, those skills were constantly in use with his customers and he slipped into autopilot as he sucked, knowing just what was needed to make Sir come quickly.

"Time," Sir grunted and Blaine deflated slightly, he knew it wasn't time, Sir never actually kept track, just let you keep going until he decided time was up, which was generally right before you would have succeeded to make sure you would fail. He dutifully kept sucking though, until Sir's grip on his hair tightened and he came in his mouth.

Sir stepped back and zipped himself back into his pants.

"Crawl to my room while I clean up here, dog," he ordered, "I'm fucking you the second I walk through that door so you better go fast if you want any prep time at all."

"Yes, Sir," Blaine mumbled, voice hoarse, and hurried out of the room.


End file.
